Free Floating
by ficing.insane
Summary: "CJ? Why'm I wet?" CJ/Danny


Title: Free Floating

_Characters:_ CJ Cregg, Danny Concannon

_Rating:_ Harmless

_Notes:_ Season 1ish? 2ish? Fail. Response to a prompt from _that_drunkard_

_Disclaimer:_ All credit goes to Sorkin, Wells, & NBC/Warner Bros.

* * *

"CJ? Why'm I wet?"

Of course it's him. Out of every person in the known universe, it had to be him, and not Sam, or even Toby. Hell, even the Prime Minister of Burundi would've been welcome here, in her own personal purgatory. But no. It was Danny. Cause she was just that lucky.

The Bartlets are back in New Hampshire, because apparently Camp David is overrated or something, so, by extension, so is CJ. She's got nothing against the farm –well, had nothing against it, up until a few seconds ago –cause it's quiet and far enough away that she can dupe herself into thinking that she's actually on a vacation. The schedule's a little more lax, too, which helps. Or rather, it would help, if the President weren't an outdoorsy nature freak who insisted on filling every spare minute of their collective day with one hike or another.

CJ hated hikes. Hated them almost as much as the Secret Service did. At least she was allowed to stray from the path now and again to flee from the constant stream of botany trivia. Honest to god, if she heard one more factoid about sassafras –well. Maybe it would've been smarter, in the long run, to suffer through the walking Farmer's Almanac, instead of going off and doing what she'd done.

'What she'd done' amounted to this: they were walking along a ridge, up by a lake she hadn't known existed, but that Bartlet spawn had been swimming in since before this country was a country, and so on. 'They' included the President and anyone else who'd been dim enough to let themselves stay in his eye line after he'd announced his hiking intent. So. Danny was there.

Danny was there because he'd been invited up by the First Lady. She had a friend, a surgeon-turned-political-enthusiast, who was looking for somebody to write her a book, a biography, that'd draw some much-needed press before she declared her intent to run for a seat in the Massachusetts state senate. Obviously, Mr. Pulitzer was at the top of the list of likely authorial candidates.

He was also Danny, which meant that when CJ snuck away, so did he. And, since they weren't on the best of terms at the moment, he'd tried to be coy about it. Which resulted in him trying to put an arm around her waist while she'd looked out over the water, which, in turn, resulted in her shrieking, flailing, and sending them both into the lake. The sacred, generations-of-Bartlets lake.

It was very cold.

By the time she surfaced and flipped the hair out of her face, Danny was already treading water across from her. Then he'd asked what he'd asked, and she swore that her face was heating up enough to set the water boiling.

"It's cause I'm trying to kill you, Danny, and I figured this'd be easier than trying to set your mattress on fire."

"Aw, come on now, CJ –we both know you're welcome to set my mattress on fire anytime you like."

"Urgh!" She walked into that one. Didn't stop her from sweeping an armful of water into his face, though.

"Hey!"

There's a wall of water headed her way now, and even though she manages to get her arms up in time to deflect most of it, she's not at all prepared for what comes next. Somehow, Danny manages to launch himself at her, grab her in a bear hug, and dunk them both under the water. Which can't be safe. Because it's deep here, and last she checked, cutesy 'Let's wrestle!' moments were best kept to shallow locations where one couldn't, you know, drown.

"Danny!" It's hard to sound indignant when you're spluttering, and, man, is CJ spluttering. She's pretty sure she swallowed one of Gail's cousins on the way up there and –hey, aren't they supposed to be drowning?

But they're not. They're actually floating, which is crazy weird, cause they're more than a little tangled up here, with her clinging to Danny's shoulders, and him with an arm around her waist, plus, they're legs are all locked up funny and their heads are really close-

"Yeah?"

Damn him. Damn him for looking good wet, and for staring at her mouth like he wanted to kiss her, even though she's positive she looks all bedraggled and crazy.

"Nothing."

"Okay."

Their noses brush, then he's kissing her, and she's kissing him back because she really, really wants to, even though she's freezing and they're kind of starting to sink. And there's also the fact that her employer and the leader of the free world is probably looking for them with a contingent of armed guards.

Whatever. She hitches her arms higher up around his neck in the hopes of saving them from the hypothermia that's already claimed everything south of her kneecaps. And, you know, if it happens to pull her Fishboy –he's earned the title now, what with him being so good at floating –a little bit closer, then, well. She'll learn to live with it.


End file.
